Thin Webs
by Ryn-Ryn the Milkshake Queen
Summary: Vash POV. They were nothing but a pair of kids they found in the desert. Nothing special. The only unusual thing about them was their affect on Knives. They were lucky to be found... but would they last? Angst all around.
1. Prologue

I always assumed I knew Knives. After all, we're twins. I should know everything about him.  
  
But of course, you can never truly know someone like Knives.  
  
It wasn't long after he and I had really fought for the last time. At least, it hadn't felt like a long time. But then, we had been away from humans and all their swiftly moving time. When I worked it out, it came to about forty of their short years.  
  
We were going to May City. Or, we had started out going to May City. Somewhere along the way, our destination had just become wherever. Maybe what we had wanted with May City was just forgotten; maybe we got sidetracked. Somehow, fate put us walking through the desert toward a backwater settlement called Little Iowa. 


	2. I

The desert beneath our feet stretched out forever. There was nowhere in the world but where we were, and where we were didn't seem to be changing. Curtains of heat fell over us as we trudged wearily forward in silence. I wondered to myself why we couldn't talk; we were supposed to be the most closely connected beings in the world. Why was it so hard for us to have a simple conversation?  
  
"There's someone out here."  
  
My thoughts shattered at Knives' careless comment.  
  
"What?" I asked needlessly. I had heard and understood him perfectly.  
  
"Over there. It moved," he said defensively, as if that proved the existence of whatever it was. He pointed to a low dune not far away.  
  
Squinting, I followed his finger. "I don't see anyone."  
  
He sighed, exasperated that I wasn't using my eyes properly. "Right there. It just moved again. You're looking right at it. I know your eyes are perfect, you're just not using them right," he chided. I automatically ignored the insult.  
  
The air melted and rippled weakly between my eyes and the dune Knives was pointing to. I shaded my eyes with a hand and stared determinedly. If he was right and someone was out here, they would need help.  
  
For half a second, something feebly waved in the air before dropping again.  
  
I took off.  
  
"Hey!" Knives yelled, half-shocked at my sudden leap. He didn't move after me.  
  
Clouds flew up with each step and I nearly tumbled head over heels in my rush, but I raced to the stranded person. Every second counted now. Whoever they were, they were probably knocking quite loudly at Death's door. I came sliding to a halt on my knees as I reached them.  
  
There were two of them, and so small. They were children, no older than seven, a boy and a girl. Huddled together on the sand, they looked like they were dead. A cold knot tied itself in my stomach.  
  
"Vash!" yelled Knives, his voice half-questioning. I waved my hand, not sure if I was reassuring him or beckoning him over.  
  
The boy stirred, and I started fumbling for my canteen. He let out a thin moan. Awkwardly, I pulled him into my lap and put the bottle to his mouth. Eyes still closed, he swallowed a few times and dropped his head against me.  
  
One-handed, I reached out to the girl, lying on her side in the sand. She hadn't moved at all. I shook her shoulder gently. She didn't respond.  
  
I bit my lip and shifted the boy, propping him up with my right arm. I turned her onto her back and shook her again; no effect.  
  
"Vash."  
  
Knives appeared behind me, having moved soundlessly over. He looked disapprovingly down at me.  
  
"I. She's. Knives, I think she's dead." I said, trying to rouse her. I could sense his apathy immediately.  
  
"So what?" he said mildly, knowing it would anger me. But he dropped to his knees next to me and held my canteen as I pulled her over.  
  
Still holding the boy, I shook her once more, more roughly. Nothing. I knit my brows and felt myself on the verge of tears. Had I failed another one?  
  
Knives reached across me and lifted the girl easily into his lap. I watched uneasily; what was he doing?  
  
He held her gently, seeming harmless. He carefully checked her pulse and, without a word, pushed her hair out of her face. I relaxed. He meant her no harm.  
  
No sooner had I thought this than he clamped her nose shut.  
  
"Knives!" I cried, trying feebly to pry his arm away from her with my left hand while holding the boy. He shrugged me off as the girl erupted into a coughing fit, sitting up quickly and gasping for air. He pulled his hand away immediately. Her small face looked pained. He watched her with a frown as her breathing normalized. She fell back into his arm weakly. I gripped the boy hesitantly.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open, and she fixed her gaze upon Knives. Her mouth opened to form a question, but she couldn't seem to find any words and remained silent.  
  
Knives waited for her question and, when it didn't come, asked her, "Do you have a name?"  
  
"Ah." she panted. "Arachne."  
  
I saw Knives flinch slightly at the name. We both knew the root of the word; Rem ensured we knew Old Earth mythology.  
  
"Knives," I said quickly, to distract him, "how far are we from Little Iowa?"  
  
He frowned down at Arachne. "Five days' walk, at least."  
  
Arachne blinked and struggled a little, looking at the boy. "Is Kiven okay?" Her voice was tiny and cracked with dryness. Knives glanced at me, repeating her silently and half-mockingly. *Is Kiven okay?*  
  
I looked at the boy in my arms, mentally prodding at his life force, querying, testing. Weak, but enough to keep him going for another five days.  
  
"Yeah," I said, giving her my best encouraging smile, "he's gonna be just fine."  
  
Reassured, she slumped into a dead faint.  
  
Knives gave me a look that spoke of all his contempt for me. "Don't bother. I already know what's going to happen. You're going to insist we take them with us to Little Iowa and get them food and water and shelter and so on, and I will refuse on the grounds that they are worthless disgusting beings no better than sand fleas, and you will blather on about the value of every life, and I will not care a bit, and you will give up and take the girl and start to carry them both and in order to save you from your folly I will take one of them from you and we will end up doing exactly as you please anyway, so let's save ourselves time and start walking," he said, rising with Arachne in his arms and turning towards Little Iowa. I scrambled out of the sand after him, hefting Kiven onto my shoulder.  
  
"Glad you see things my way!" I said with a grin. 


	3. II

[a/n: By the way, this takes place before the series. Thanks to Julian for pointing that out.]  
  
When the second moon glared at us, Knives insisted we stop.  
  
"If you insist upon 'saving' these children," he said, sitting down with Arachne in his arms, "you need to let them rest."  
  
I nodded, putting Kiven down on the swiftly cooling sand. I gave him some of my water. He was barely conscious.  
  
"Knives," I whispered, speaking aloud only because I figured the sound of voices would comfort the children, "do we have any food?"  
  
He shook his head, stretching muscles that had grown sore from carrying all day. "We didn't need it."  
  
I sighed, looking away from him. I had been half expecting that. I hadn't brought any food; we could always refuel in whatever town was nearest if we felt like eating, but we didn't need to eat or even drink for weeks at a time. Of course he wouldn't have brought any, it would only slow us down.  
  
"They'll need to eat, I know," he said coolly. I glanced at him sideways. He still had Arachne in his lap, but he seemed to hold her almost like a gun; tensely, coldly, inanimately.  
  
"You want me to take her?" I offered, gesturing to the girl. He looked almost surprised. Hesitantly, he looked from me to her.  
  
"I, ah. . ." he said slowly, stammering for quite possibly the first time in his life. I wasn't sure, but I could almost feel him thinking *no*.  
  
I knew he didn't want to admit he didn't want to give her up. I knew that feeling. I could point out the feeling to him, but he would deny it and repress it.  
  
Sometimes, I know Knives just well enough.  
  
"Actually. . ." I said with an exaggerated yawn, "I think I'm gonna take a little nap, so never mind. Keep an eye on Kiven, would ya?"  
  
He snorted in a perfect imitation of himself being disgusted. "Yes, I'll watch the spiderlings. Not like I need sleep anyway," he muttered. I smiled to myself as I pretended to nod off. I may play the fool, but what better way to manipulate the kings?  
  
Half of me set about the problem of getting these kids to Little Iowa alive and the other half kept an eye on Knives. He was still holding Arachne tensely. He didn't seem to be doing anything worrisome, but I watched.  
  
We had four more days' walk to Little Iowa, where we could get the kids food and find a home for them. I had enough water in my canteen for two more days, if I rationed it and didn't use any myself. Knives could probably be convinced to give up his canteen too.  
  
I glanced briefly his way. He had shifted slightly. His head was tilted back, eyes to the stars, back against the dune. Arachne seemed less awkward in his arms now.  
  
Obviously, we'd have to carry them both. They were in no shape for walking. We could probably shave two days off the time if we traveled at night, too, but the little ones might not be able to handle all that. They were being carried, true, but they needed rest if we couldn't give them any food.  
  
Knives was studying Arachne now, carefully, as if she might injure him if he looked too close. That struck me as odd; Knives, afraid of something? A little human girl, no less? But that wasn't fear in his eyes so much as the cold acknowledgement one gives a poisonous creature; not fear, just wariness of danger. It hit me that Knives had never been close to a human child before. Maybe he was trying to puzzle out the difference. Or maybe he just didn't understand.  
  
His eyes were narrowed, so focused. His mouth twitched slightly, like it always did when he was examining a new thought. I worried what might be going on in his head. You never know, with Knives.  
  
He raised one hand, and I caught my breath in my throat, ready to snatch the girl out of his arms if he tried to hurt her.  
  
Slowly, he reached toward her face. I could feel my heart stop.  
  
He tapped her lightly on the forehead three times.  
  
It was all I could do not to let my breath escape in one huge sigh and slowly release it. He glanced my way, probably checking to make sure I was asleep, then repeated the action. Tap-tap-tap. He squinted at her very thoughtfully.  
  
What the hell was he doing?  
  
Tap-tap-tap. Again. She stirred slightly, waving one small arm weakly. Knives smiled in a way that I've come to consider triumphant. Now that he had proven results, he raised his hand again.  
  
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap- tap- tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap- tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap- tap-tap- tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.  
  
What the hell?  
  
Arachne squirmed and wined a little. Knives looked down at her with an odd expression, somewhere between triumph and scientific curiosity.  
  
"Awake?" he whispered.  
  
"Mmhmm," she mumbled.  
  
"Good," he said, and seemed to be suddenly without anything to say..  
  
"'M Arachne," she mumbled sleepily. "Who're you?"  
  
He hesitated.  
  
"Knives."  
  
She squirmed. "Tha's a funny name."  
  
"So's Arachne," he countered. There was tone in his voice I hadn't heard since we bickered when we were little, something defensive.  
  
"'S not."  
  
"Yes it is."  
  
"No 's not."  
  
"It is."  
  
"'S not. It means 'spider.'"  
  
"I know that. I don't like spiders."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"They kill the butterflies."  
  
Arachne paused, mulling this over.  
  
"Wha's a flutterby?"  
  
"Butterfly."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It's a winged insect that feeds on the nectar of flowers with its proboscis."  
  
Arachne didn't seem to have a prepared answer for that.  
  
"Its prowhattis?"  
  
"Proboscis."  
  
"Oh. Wha's a flower?"  
  
Knives froze. Rem had told us once just what flowers were, to her. He'd always had an aversion to them.  
  
"It's a kind of plant that has petals-" he caught himself in the middle of using another word she didn't know, "-soft colored leaves at the top. Some people think they have a pleasant fragrance."  
  
"Whassat mean?"  
  
"They think it smells nice."  
  
Arachne considered this. She slowly sat up in his lap and stared up at him in deep thought.  
  
"You mean Plants like the ones in the bulbs? I never saw one with pretty color leafs. I never saw one with leafs at all."  
  
"No, not that kind. The kind like trees."  
  
"Wow, I saw a tree once. Flutterbies must be big. I don't think a spider could kill one but this one time I did see a real big spider and it was this big-" she spread out her small arms as far as they could go, "-or maybe this or well-" she continued, moving her hands nonstop in an effort to demonstrate the size of the spider, eventually seeming to settle on the size of both her fists and holding them up before dropping them again quickly, "-Well I don't know how big it was but it was real big but I don't think it could kill a flutterby 'cuz those are even bigger." She gave this a moment more of deep thought while Knives attempted to unravel her tangled syntax before adding, "It was real big."  
  
"No, flowers are much smaller than trees," Knives corrected her, ignoring the rest of her garbled speech. Probably to amuse himself, he asked her, "How big did you say it was again?"  
  
"Umm. . ." she puzzled briefly. Concentrating deeply, she put her fists back together and held them up to his nose. "This big."  
  
"Oh. That is big."  
  
"Yep. But I wasn't scared."  
  
"Weren't you, now." Matter-of-factly.  
  
"No-huh."  
  
"Well then."  
  
Arachne was either a very perceptive person or a completely blind one to be as comfortable as she was with Knives. Maybe it was the somewhat disturbing way he treated her like an adult. It was probably pretty rare that adults spoke to her as if she were as smart as she really was. Knives wasn't making any special allowances for her. He was talking to her almost the same way he used to talk to me.  
  
He wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes had wandered up to the sky again. Arachne huddled against him like a teddy bear and popped her thumb in her mouth, closing her eyes and starting to drift off.  
  
"Misser Knives?" she suddenly asked, craning her neck up to see him.  
  
"Yes." He didn't look down.  
  
"Kiven's okay, right?"  
  
Knives looked down at her abruptly, then to the little boy sprawled in the sand. He seemed well enough. I would have told her that he was just fine.  
  
"I don't know yet. He's probably very weak. But my brother is taking care of him."  
  
Arachne perked up. "Oh, you have a brother too?"  
  
"Yes," Knives said patiently. "That's him."  
  
"Oh, he's nice. Did he ever steal your dollies and feed 'em to a Thomas?"  
  
Knives did not immediately respond. He seemed to be doing a good job of adjusting his conversation so she could understand it, and his thought pattern to understand her.  
  
"No. I never had dolls. And Vash wouldn't do something like that," he added ambiguously.  
  
"You never had dollies?" she asked, mildly surprised, as if he had said he had never seen a cat.  
  
"No."  
  
She wrapped her small brain around this.  
  
"Well. . . I guess you could have one of mine, when I get home." She sounded shy, almost sad.  
  
Knives recognized the enormity of the sacrifice she had offered to make and did not point out that he would rather shoot himself in the foot than own a doll. "Thank you. Where is 'home?'"  
  
She yawned as she said groggily, "Third City July. Knives, I'm thirsty."  
  
Wordlessly, he reached for his canteen. "July."  
  
"Mm-hmm," she said, gulping down his water. He took it back before she could take too much. "I even know my address. Two-thirty-seven, um, two- thirty seven. . . Two-thirty-seven White. . . White. . .Two-thirty-seven White, um, Chuh. . . Knives, what's that word for church that sounds like apple?"  
  
"Chapel."  
  
"Yeah. Two-thirty-seven White Chapel Road, Third City July. Thassit."  
  
"I see. And why aren't you there now?"  
  
"'Cuz I'm here," she said matter-of-factly. He chuckled.  
  
"I noticed that. But why are you way out here instead of in July?"  
  
"Oh. Well, um, Kiven knows better than I do. I was real sleepy. Mommy and Daddy said it was an energemcy and to get out of the house real quick through the back door. So we did. There was some booms, like fireworks. Kiven said we should go out in the desert, so we did. I didn't wanna go because I left Mr. Floppykins in my room. But Kiven said I couldn't go back. He said we were gonna camp out in the desert and run all the way to Little Jersey and tell everyone there what happened. I dunno what happened but now I wanna go back home." She yawned deeply. "You're taking me home, right?"  
  
Knives didn't respond, and I prayed he would tell her we were; she could get hysterical if she thought she was never going home again. I knew Knives would prefer to give her the cold truth rather than shelter her, but I set every hope against him doing it.  
  
"Well. . ." Come on, Knives, don't make the trip any harder.  
  
"Right now, we're going to Little Iowa. . ." Dammit, he just HAD to be honest.  
  
". . .But I'm sure that Vash will make sure you get home soon." Damn him, he knows me way too well, I thought with relief and a smile. Yes, I would get them both home. Knives knew I would whether he liked it or not.  
  
"Oh. Okay." She yawned again and curled into a ball in his lap, sucking her thumb. "Goodnight, Misser Knives."  
  
It's been a long time since anyone's said that to him, I thought. Does he remember how it worked?  
  
"Goodnight, Arachne."  
  
Maybe he did. Sometimes he remembers things you wouldn't expect. 


	4. III

It seemed like resting the night before had been a good idea.  
  
Or, according to Knives, the worst idea he'd ever had.  
  
"Vash!" he shouted from behind me. "Get this SPIDERLING off my leg!"  
  
I looked over my shoulder at him, peering around Arachne, who was riding on my shoulders. Kiven was firmly attached to his leg and not letting go.  
  
I smiled and turned back around, bouncing Arachne and humming a little tune. She laughed and sang made-up words along.  
  
"Vash?" he cried. "Vash, are you IGNORING me?!"  
  
"No, I'm not caring about your plight," I sang back to him. Kiven squealed.  
  
"Pick me up, Misser Knives!"  
  
"Get OFF of me!"  
  
"La de da de dai, genocide..." I hummed, not thinking. It was a morbid little tune I'd made up, a sort of subconscious way of pretending everything was alright when Knives...was being Knives.  
  
"Who's Jenna Side?" Arachne asked, breaking the tune. I opened my mouth, trying to think of an answer quickly.  
  
Knives came up next to us, managing to shake Kiven off for a few seconds. I could hear the little boy racing to catch up with us.  
  
*Her. Away, * Knives thought to me.  
  
I stopped humming and lifted Arachne off my shoulders, setting her down next to me. She reached for my hand, but I patted her head and shook her off.  
  
"Tag! No tagbacks!" I cried. She screeched with joy and leapt at Knives.  
  
"Taaaaag, Misser Knives! You're it!" she giggled, prancing around him.  
  
"He's not playing," I inserted before Knives could say anything. "And neither am I."  
  
She gave us a vaguely reproachful look and chased down Kiven, who was amusing himself by kicking a rock along.  
  
I made sure he wasn't upset before thinking to Knives, *What?*  
  
"I don't think I can keep this up," he said firmly.  
  
"Keep what up?"  
  
He shuddered. "All this..." *...Playing.*  
  
I snorted. "They're just kids. Remember being a kid? We used t-"  
  
*NO.*  
  
My mental ears rang. "Ouch. You don't need to shout," I whined at him.  
  
"That's not all," he said, ignoring me. "They can't keep running around like this. It will tire them out. They won't make it to Little Iowa."  
  
"Aww, Knives, they're just having some fun. You really wanna tell them they need to stop playing?"  
  
"Vash, this do you want these children to survive or not?"  
  
"Of course I do, but I'm sure—"  
  
"This isn't a matter of what they want, Vash. This is a matter of getting them to Little Iowa alive."  
  
I grinned. "Hey, relax, Knives. They'll be fine. Y'know, I bet—"  
  
"Shut up," he ordered. He looked away, his eyes slightly unfocused. Something else had his attention.  
  
"...What?"  
  
He said coolly, "It's too quiet.  
  
"Knives, it's a desert."  
  
"Your spiderlings?"  
  
"What do you mean, 'my spiderlings?' They're—"  
  
"Watch out," he cut me off calmly.  
  
Instinctively, my head snapped up. Nothing.  
  
"Knives, what—"  
  
The rest of my sentence was cut off as my legs gave out at the knees and my face hit the sand. Two small bodies converted my back to a couch.  
  
I rolled my head sideways to see Knives, smirking down at me. "I did tell you to watch out."  
  
"Misser Vash! Misser Vash! Play with us, Misser Vash!"  
  
I spat out some sand and erupted from the ground with a roar, throwing them off and pouncing on Arachne.  
  
"TAG!"  
  
The third moon was starting to crawl over the flat horizon and the second sun was nearly gone when Arachne tugged on Knives' sleeve and, yawning and rubbing her eyes, said she was tired.  
  
Knives promptly ordered me to stop.  
  
Kiven and Arachne sat-half dazed as Knives and I made camp.  
  
Kiven rubbed at one eye and announced, "I don't feel so good."  
  
Knives gave me a glare.  
  
"What's the matter, Kiven?" I asked, plopping down in the sand next to him. Knives gave the fire a vicious jab with a stick he must have brought with him.  
  
"My head hurts. And I'm thirsty," he whimpered.  
  
"Me too," Arachne added, kicking at the sand. "I'm hot."  
  
*I told you,* Knives thought bitterly.  
  
"Go to sleep, you guys," I suggested. "You'll probably feel better in the morning."  
  
Arachne nodded and crawled into Knives' lap, immediately curling into a ball and closing her eyes. Knives gave a slightly exasperated sigh and didn't move her.  
  
Kiven was not so willing. "But Misser Vash," he protested, "I'm still thirsty."  
  
Knives quite grudgingly handed Kiven his canteen. "Anything to keep you quiet," he muttered.  
  
Kiven gulped down as much as he could before Knives took it back. Kiven pouted.  
  
"I'm not sleepy, Misser Vash," he whined. Knives made a grunting noise that sounded extremely bitter and arranged himself as comfortably as he could.  
  
"Well, I'm not sleepy yet either, so why don't you tell me a story, Kiven?" I said with a smile. He squirmed and nodded.  
  
"Whatcha want a story 'bout?" he yawned.  
  
*Not tired, he said. Spider.*  
  
*Shut up. I'm trying to talk to him.*  
  
Knives grunted.  
  
"How about you tell me how you got out here, little guy?" I cajoled. He perked up.  
  
"Oh, okay! Well, it was night, and some bad guys came to our house! And they were gonna rob our money! So Mommy said to me 'n 'Rachne to get out of the house and run 'way and-"he dropped the narration abruptly to yawn, "-so we left the house 'n I said we should go to Li'l Jersey to tell everyone but then we got lost so we stopped in the desert cuz we was so tired and then we fell 'sleep and you found us and—"he paused again, realizing that was the end. "And then it was now." He gave another massive yawn.  
  
"Gee, Kiven," I said, resting my chin on my knees, "sounds like you were real brave."  
  
"Mm-hmm," he confirmed with a valiant nod. "Yep, I was re-ee-eeal brave..." he mumbled, then slumped into the sand and closed his eyes.  
  
I waited a few moments, then turned to Knives. "What do you think?"  
  
Knives opened one eye with contempt. "I think a great many things, Vash. You'll need to be more specific."  
  
Typical Knives in aggravated mode. "What do you think of his story?"  
  
He closed his eye again. "There's nothing to think. I don't doubt he's telling the truth. It's of no consequence anyway. There are more important things."  
  
"We should take them home."  
  
Both his eyes opened, cold and aggravated. "Vash, don't start. I knew you would start. I'm only taking them as far as Little Iowa, Vash. That's IT."  
  
"But what if no one in Little Iowa will adopt them? There must be neighbors, friends, relatives back in July who would take them in."  
  
He sighed. "Vash, as weak-minded as spiders are, they are also ruled by their emotions, and some of them are horribly soft. Someone is bound to take them in. In a town the size of Little Iowa, there is an eighty-seven point nine percent chance they will find a home within two days."  
  
"How did you –"  
  
"I calculated it in anticipation of this argument."  
  
I hated it when he did that. "Alright. How about we pay someone else to take them back to July?"  
  
Knives closed his eyes again and shook his head, saying, "They'd take your money and run off with it, leaving the children to die in the desert. If I know spiders."  
  
Horrified, I hissed, "Knives, that's a horrible thing to say!"  
  
"But you know I'm right."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Ah, dear brother, when will you learn..."  
  
I didn't respond. My gaze wandered up to the fourth moon. If little green men lived on the moons, I was sure they didn't have to deal with this sort of thing.  
  
"What are you thinking about now, Vash?" Knives pestered.  
  
Without looking away from the sky, I said, "What it would be like to be a little green man on one of the moons."  
  
"La folie est un maître dur, n'est-ce pas, Vash?"  
  
"What?" I asked groggily. Damn Knives and his obsession with Old Earth languages.  
  
"I said 'Insanity is a harsh master, isn't it?' I know you speak French."  
  
"Not after eight o'clock, I don't."  
  
Knives snorted, amused. "We have another day and a half ahead of us, and you are exhausted. Sleep."  
  
"Amen to that," I murmured, and obeyed. 


	5. IV

[a/n: I just feel the a/n is obligatory this time. Hi.]  
  
"Vash," Knives said to me early the next morning. His voice sounded on the verge of urgent, but more just demanding.  
  
"Mmblrgh," I mumbled, still mostly asleep.  
  
"Vash, get up," he pressed further. He nudged my shoulder gently with one heel.  
  
"Is groundsel nice, mother?" I slurred. (Actually, I may or may not have said that. Knives claims I did.)  
  
"Vash, your spiderlings are dying," Knives snapped.  
  
"Sure, Knives," I grunted. "Just like that time I told you the coffee maker exploded..."  
  
"The coffee maker DID explode. You put gunpowder in it."  
  
"Well, whose idea was it to keep the coffee grounds next to the gunpowder anyway? It was five AM..." I said, slowly waking up  
  
This time Knives' voice contained no hint of patience. "Vash. Get up. NOW."  
  
I knew that tone all too well. He was serious. I scrambled to look at him, little flurries of sand flying up everywhere.  
  
He stared down at me sternly, holding one child in each arm and looking almost protective. Arachne was curled up against him, a pained expression on her pale face and her black hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. Kiven's breathing was rapid and deep, and he lay unconscious in Knives' left arm.  
  
"Oh no..." I whispered. Knives nodded to me as I got to my feet.  
  
"It's the dehydration. We shouldn't have let them run around like that yesterday," he said, only the slightest reproach in his voice. He had said "we," meaning that he took at least partial responsibility. Even though it wasn't his fault. Sometimes I forget that under the deranged homicidal Knives, there's my brother Knives.  
  
I stepped up to him and took Arachne from his arm. She fussed a little but leaned her head against my chest and sniffled. Knives wordlessly shifted Kiven to balance his weight better.  
  
"It's another full day on foot to Little Iowa, isn't it?" I mused, giving Knives a pleading look. Right now, I knew that he was better equipped to handle things than I was.  
  
"If we carry them both and don't stop, we can probably cut it down to ten or eleven hours," he offered. "But don't get your hopes up."  
  
He was also painfully realistic. "We have to hurry. They'll die otherwise," I said hurriedly, and immediately realized that Knives would rather they died than carry them all the way to Little Iowa. But it was too late to take it back, and so I prepared to try to talk him down and beg him to help.  
  
"I know," was all he said as he began walking.  
  
It was reaching noon. The two suns, Alpha and Omega, had reached their opposing angles and so we were beat down on from both sides. I knew that this was the time of day the people sat inside, hiding from the unbearable heat, drinking anything cold and doing nothing. I sheltered Arachne as much as I could with my arms and trudged silently on.  
  
Knives walked ahead of me, back straight, untiring. Kiven lay unmoving in his arms. The extreme heat from those bitter suns seemed not to affect Knives at all. He even made how different he was from humans clear when he was walking.  
  
The suns rule the people of this planet. That's probably why they call them Alpha and Omega. Beginning and Ending. The suns are the be-all and end-all, the first and the last. Our lives revolve around the suns. When they each hit their complementary zeniths, life pauses until they move on. And, I thought as I held Arachne's feverish, miserable form, if we don't obey them and hide from their terrible heat for the hour they reign supreme, the consequences are dire...  
  
I let this train of thought drift away and caught hold of one that had been bothering me. Knives was acting so oddly. I didn't object, of course – don't look a gift horse in the mouth – but I was puzzled. I had said they were bound to die – and all he said was "I know." He was trying to prevent their deaths. I didn't understand.  
  
In hindsight, what I did next could have been disastrous and made him rebel and try to abandon the children, but at the time, my curiosity was eating me. I matched my stride to his and walked beside Knives.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" I asked quietly, watching him out of the corner of my eye.  
  
"Because if I don't, you'll do it on your own. We went through this already." He walked looking straight ahead.  
  
"But if you let me do it alone, I'd be slowed down too much and they'd die," I said as if it were a debate point, with no strong emotion behind it.  
  
"That's why I'm not letting you do it alone," he responded, carefully filling his voice with patronizing patience. To add to it, he amended, "You will notice that you are carrying one child, not two."  
  
I hesitated, letting the silence build as I chose my words.  
  
"I would think... that you would be happy to see them die." I deliberately avoided his gaze.  
  
"Because they are spiders?"  
  
"Humans," I said emphatically.  
  
"I realize that they are useless creatures, and their kind is bent on destroying the world," he began, but without any twinge of hatred to his tone. "But..." His own pause to articulate spanned a long period, exactly how long I'm not sure. It may have been minutes, even seconds, but it felt like hours.  
  
"But?" I prompted, impatient.  
  
"But... these two are not yet..." He struggled to express himself. "They are not yet corrupted. They have not become the killers, the destroyers, the scum that eats and consumes and gives nothing back, only takes and destroys. They are..." he fought again for words. "...Innocent."  
  
"Yes," I half-whispered, looking down at Arachne clinging to me. "They haven't hurt anyone."  
  
"And so they will get their chance," Knives proclaimed, an almost forced determination behind the words. His sarcasm flooded home to his acidic tongue as he said, "Everyone deserves a chance to catch a butterfly. We'll let them spin their webs."  
  
I nodded, ignoring the half-amused nastiness.  
  
A long silence fell between us. We weren't saying anything or thinking to each other, but we didn't need to. We were communicating in ways beyond even telepathic words.  
  
"Vash," Knives said after a while, making my head snap up. He was staring at the ground now. I cocked my head to one side to listen. He seemed conflicted, something Knives never was.  
  
"I talked to the girl the other night," he said, like a confession of a horrible crime.  
  
I wasn't sure what he was trying to convey with this. "Oh?"  
  
"Yes. I spoke to her for a while. She is a very... giving creature." He sounded like he was apologizing.  
  
I nodded, holding her a little closer. "She's not a bad kid. Neither of them are."  
  
Knives nodded shortly and silently. After another long pause, he made a small noise that indicated he had something to say.  
  
"What is it?" I encouraged, my voice lower than I had expected.  
  
His tone embarrassedly formal, he began, "Well, in light of recent... discoveries I have made..." He trailed, about to dismiss the matter and not say anything at all. But then that would be like giving up, and Knives never gave up.  
  
"In light of recent discoveries and close contact with these children," he began again, newly determined, "I have decided that it is possible – just possible, not definite – that humans are not ALL as... despicable as I had originally deemed them." He gave a small huff of completion and waited for me to celebrate.  
  
I knew that I had to be calm about this and not superior, otherwise he'd take it right back. "That's great, Knives."  
  
"Yes, well." He said it in his short, conversation-ending way.  
  
And for a long time, I walked on smiling. 


End file.
